Turn My Page | Led Zeppelin

What Is And Should Never Be

  There was much eavesdropping about me for the rest of that night. I knew they were talking about how strange I'd been acting, and to say the least, I let them. I agreed that I was acting strange, although I didn't know why.

  My stomach twisted at the thought of all the familiar pirate women in my dream... What was so significant about all of them? Why were they familiar, and what did they mean by "You've screwed us over," or something like that?

  "Oh," I realized out loud, speaking quiet enough not to alarm Jones who sat next to me on the couch in our apartment complex. John and Robert were in the kitchen doing God-knows-what while Jones and I watched The Rolling Stones preform live on the tele (much to our dislike).

  "You've screwed us over!" Now he knew why there were all so familiar! He had done every one of those women after a concert. Damn, there had to be at least 30 of them, I thought.

  Jones, without looking at me, spoke with an intelligent tone. "You know, it's because of The Rolling Stones that we aren't getting as noticed this year."

  I didn't say anything. I was uninterested in anything about our tour at this point. I just wanted to know about this ominous dream. Was that Vicky who had swung from boat to boat and landed on me, or just another red-head with eyes of shimmering slate? Stop! Don't talk about her like that! Do you have a problem?

  My stomach churned again at the thought of her sitting at her house alone, possibly listening to our band, angry at me. No, she wouldn't listen to our music... not after what I did... not after I forced her into something she didn't want to do.

  Bonzo walked out of the kitchen and eyed me with a need. He pointed to the swinging kitchen door and said, "Phone, Jim." 

  I stood, a small light of hope in my chest that it was [Vicky] someone who could take my mind off of that girl from last night. Oh, come on, don't start acting like you don't know her name...

  I walked into the kitchen, ignoring Bonzo as he watched me with curiosity, and took the phone from Robert's multitasking hands (he was making a midnight snack). I cleared my throat.

  "'Ello?" I asked.

  "James!" a familiar voice called in a thick French accent. "James, when are you 'oming 'ome?"

  "Soon, Charlotte. I miss little Scarlet." The truth was that the band and I weren't going home until the estimated June 30th, but we never knew. It was only June 12th, anyway.

  But what harm was there in telling your wife a little white lie? In all honesty, I didn't really miss her. but I figured it was in the best interest for daughter that I acted civil. "How is she?"

  "Good, good. She finally learned 'ow to say 'moon'!"

  "That's fantastic, Charly," I told her, glancing at Robert and John who eyed me with curiosity. "Look, My Lady, I have to let you go... it's late here--"

  "Really? Its morning 'ere!"

  "Yes, we've discussed the different time zones the last time we talked, My Lady. By the by, how did you get the number to the apartment?"

  "Richard phoned me 'elling me to talk to you because you seemed different..... he gave me ze number-- what's wrong, James?"

  "Never you mind. Concert anticipation... nerves... look, My Lady, I have to go!"

  "But--"

  "I love you, Charlotte-- kisses!"

  "Kisses...?" her voice faltered in sadness. "Bye, love..."

  "Bye!" I hung up the phone. It wasn't that I didn't love her, it was that I didn't want to think about my wife or my child, as horrible as that sounds. I never really talked to them all that much in the first place. All I wanted to think about was the concert at The Spectrum tomorrow.

  I placed a hand on Robert's shoulder, a manly way of receiving comfort from another. That damned silver bracelet glinted at me. I removed my hand and left the kitchen. I hated this Vicky bird. She was a nuisance, an annoying picture mirrored in my brain. I was sick of it, sick!

  I guess one could say that I felt.... guilty? No. I had cheated too many times by now on my wife to even give twopence about her feelings. Regardless, guilt bubbled in my stomach. I'm done thinking, I thought. Damn, you just contradicted yourself..... STOP THINKING TO YOURSELF! 

  Luckily I didn't have to think for too much longer. I went to bed on the couch once John, Bonzo, and Robert had found a place to sleep, as there were only two bedrooms. No alcohol, no drugs, no music. Sleep.

  "Way way down inside, I'm gonna give you my love, gonna give you my love, ahh, whole lotta love!" echoed in my dreams.

  Vicky fell out of bed, dreaming of the bracelet she had lost sometime two days ago. She hoped it wasn't gone forever, even if it had only cost her five bucks to buy.

  She had been in bed for two days straight now, only leaving for food, water, and the bathroom, hiding from a questioning Jackie whenever she did so. Jackie had been hounding her for answers to her attitude, and although it had started out with Vicky wanting to tell everyone about she and Jimmy, she didn't tell a single soul-- wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't.

  "Ugh," she groaned, feeling as though she had to throw up. She crawled across her carpet and collapsed next to a stack of magazines and albums. With one look at the assorted albums, she sighed. She was out of tears and was instead embarrassed by herself.

  An expected knock came on Vicky's door. Jackie. Vicky stood up slowly and walked to the white door, her shoulders sagging. She opened it begrudgingly. Jackie was prepared to knock again, stunned that the door had opened.  

  "Oh, Vicks!" she crooned. She pushed Vicky back into her room and sat her on her purple bed. Jackie wrapped her arms around Vicky and swayed back and forth on her seat. "Tell me what happened, babe."

  Vicky turned to face her best friend, both anguish and sorrow burning bright in her eyes. "Who hurt you, Vick?" Jackie asked, worried. "Are... are you pregnant? I could understand if you were... Pam and Liz both got pregnant, too."

  "No, I'm not pregnant," Vicky replied. "And Pam got knocked-up in high-school. I don't know Liz."

  "They're good friends," Jackie stated. She looked into Vicky's eyes and took her friend's hands in her own. "Oh, tell me what happened!"

  Vicky sighed as she prepared herself for Jackie's distorted response. "I got drunk and almost...", Vicky let out another sigh, "almost had sex with..... Jimmy Page..."

  "Really? Groovy!" Jackie grinned. Vicky rolled her eyes. "Oh, sorry, Vick. Well, I was going to ask what happened to you after the concert! Apparently you had some fun with Mr. Page!"

  "'Fun' being an over-statement," Vicky spat. "He almost forced me into it..... The bastard."

  Jackie began to pat Vicky's hand lovingly. "Tell me everything that happened, beginning with the concert."

  "Okay..."